Waiting on the Bridge
by emrysmile
Summary: Uther must make an example before magic lays waste to Camelot. It may take a while, but he will fail.


**Waiting on the Bridge**

**Author:** Georgia (Merlin'sGeekyFan)

**Synopsis:** Uther needs to make an example before magic lays waste to Camelot. It may take a while, but he will fail.

**Rating:** PG

**Special Notices:** A very, _very_, **VERY** early birthday gift to the inconceivably yummy and wonderful and amazing and simply perfect, EPIC, oxymoronics. As you can see babe, I love ya!

**Disclaimer:**I own nothing but a weird imagination and some really funky hats.

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**Waiting on the Bridge**

Growling thunder rolled across the rain streaked kingdom of Camelot. Sharp, alert eyes followed darting servants and heavy raindrops disinterestedly, the King's foul brooding mood perfectly matching the weather. Once again magic was running amuck throughout Camelot, seeping in through the cracks like a vile acrid tar. If he didn't make an example then soon there would be an epidemic of evil sorcery befouling the land!

Uther's steely grey eyes fell on the cobblestones of the courtyard, lacquered crimson from the spilled blood of sorcerers. Rivers of rose-coloured water streamed along the courtyard, carrying the blood away, finally ridding Camelot of just one more piece of scum. The King's eyes drifted to the stables where the pale lanky form of his son's manservant could be seen through the shimmering veil of water. He had his suspicions. Too many things went unnoticed around this servant, this… _Merlin_. Now he sat in the edge of the rough stable wall between the arches.

Without even knowing it Merlin had sealed his own fate.

**-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-**

The proclamation rang out across the kingdom, the spine-chilling words of death seeming to roll over country hills on gentle autumn gusts. A sorcerer hidden in the court of Camelot, lurking beneath Uther's gaze, was to be executed in such a gruesome way, that royal messengers shuddered and paled as they repeated the news. Children clung fearfully to the worn fabric of mother's skirts, and fellow sorcerers spat hate and abuse to the churning grey skies, tears mingling shamelessly with the rain. Ensconced in safe castle walls Arthur had never felt more vulnerable, more terrified, more _furious_.

Mere feet away, Uther knew he was saving his kingdom.

**-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-**

The heavens mercifully stilled, pitying the trembling figure that stood upon a towering column of rock. The stone spire was a mystery to all. Standing strong and proud in a gaping chasm, it had seemed to appear from nowhere and even the most wizened knowledgeable sorcerers were left dizzied by the raw powerful magic rolling off the pillar in crashing waves.

Merlin shuddered violently, salty tears tracking slowly down his face in lieu of raindrops. He prayed for the gods to take mercy, for the sky to split open and send him careening into the black abyss of the gorge below; anything to end an inevitably slow and painful death of starvation. The air was thick with the lingering scent of acrid smoke; the last evidence of the rope bridge sorcerers had built simply to get closer to the infuriatingly mystical spire. Now Merlin would be the last of his kind to feel the thrum of magic so close.

Distantly Merlin could hear the bitter tones of another magical tirade. No doubt Uther insulting his lineage back to his great ancestors, calling him scum of the earth because he didn't have to pick up the jug to pour wine. Sick and world-weary Merlin sank to down onto the pillar, knees drawn tight to his chest to ward off the slight chill. He ignored Uther's screams to stand on his feet in the presence of the _Mighty King of Camelot_. Nothing would change now. Nothing mattered. Least of all Uther.

Lies.

Everything mattered right now. Every gentle breeze could end Merlin's life, every biting word that spewed like bile from Uther could finally decide for him and send him leaping into sweet release, the searing gaze at his side could be the only thing to save him from himself.

Mere feet away, yet so far it felt like long stretching miles of harsh bare desert, Arthur stood with eyes swimming in despair. His voice was hoarse from hours of screaming at his _father _– the word left a sour taste on his tongue – pleading for Merlin's life. The crowd watching the solitary warlock slowly dwindled, murmurs of mutiny against the king catching and clinging to the edges of crisp golden leaves. Soon only four remained, Arthur, Gwen, Morgana and Gaius, staring teary-eyed and clench-jawed at Merlin's trembling figure. Fully fledged sobs rang out and echoed across the gorge unhindered now and before long Morgana forced a distraught Gwen away, Gaius reluctantly escorting them home as his heart was torn to shreds.

Arthur remained, eyes dry and muscles tight. Finally Merlin met his gaze, normally stormy blue eyes golden as new coins and brimming with fresh tears, reddened by those already shed. Something flared in the ethereal irises and Arthur felt himself sinking, lower, lower, into a deep sleep, the word 'idiot' dying on his lips as he sunk under too soon.

**-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-**

When Arthur woke to the gentle patters of early rain on his face he shot up like a dart, staring in disbelief. There was the pillar, strong and mind-blowingly impossible as ever, but stretched over it was an ornate bridge, carved arches depicting great fiery dragons and not-so-mythical beasts and every day sorcerers. Merlin was no where in sight.

Panic swept over Arthur in tidal waves and he rushed, heedless of the slippery mud-slicked ground to peer over into the abyss. There, were the floor was out of sight and the walls of the gores fell miles further floated a familiar orb of calming azure light which drifted lower as Arthur's terror slowly seeped away.

Merlin was alive, but it did little to comfort Arthur as he trudged home.

**-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-**

Camelot was gone, and finally back from the faux-paradise of Avalon, Arthur spared a moment to mourn for his fallen kingdom. With Uther's death magic had returned to the land in sweeping droves, almost before Arthur had the chance to welcome it. Now dressed in these odd 'jeans' and 'trainers' Arthur chuckled over the pompously fancy clothes he remembered from his youth. Camelot was only a brief stop for him though, as he marched to the place he had longed to return to for years.

There it was, that innately sculpted bridge accented with slick dark green moss which slid into cracks and crevices in the carvings. The stone had darkened with grime and age but there was only one change Arthur was interested in. The lanky, pale figure dangling their legs lazily over the wall, completely unafraid of his own mortality.

"Merlin."

In a twisted impression of many years ago, Arthur's voice was hoarse, but this time from lack of use. Merlin smiled serenely at him and as he walked closer Arthur memorized every tiny new detail, just as he had observed the bridge. Merlin's hair was slightly longer, shaggier, but it suited him, and he had gained freckles at some point, dotted haphazardly across his face – so pale an infrequent they were nearly invisible. His smile hadn't changed. Still goofy and naïve, and ridiculously, painfully happy. His eyes were still stormy blue.

"Hey Arthur."

After a clumsy, much too belated, kiss and some embarrassed blushing Arthur finally asked for the truth.

"It was to spite Uther. I made the bridge to keep magic in Camelot, and then I just… slept I suppose. Down in the gorge, and when I woke up I just… knew you were back."

"…That's insane." Merlin grinned at him then, dazzling and full of glee and so heart-wrenchingly familiar Arthur sliced his nails through his palms to stop from kissing him again.

"That's magic." Arthur chuckled loudly, shoving Merlin in the shoulder and chastising him for such a cheesy line. Comfortable silence settled over them as they leaned together, fingers quietly locked together, and pondered what the world had in store for them this time. No doubt Arthur's great leadership and Merlin's magic would soon be required to save the world but until then they were content to sit on the bridge, giggling over Gaius' old habits and Gwen's babbling, knowing that this time nothing would get in their way…

…except maybe freaky ass evil magicians and Arthur's ungodly pratiness.

But it would all work out.


End file.
